“Well, maybe it is a baby,” Henrietta said half to herself.
“What,” Stiles speculated, “the ship had a kid while we weren’t looking? Boy, I’d like to see that.”
“Why? Didn’t your dad tell you about the birds and the bees?” Jimmy asked. “Oh, yeah, I forgot; he never talked to you anyway.”
The other kids froze at the barbed insult, wondering what would happen next. There was complete silence on the bridge, and not a breath of movement.
“One of these days, you’re going to go too far,” Stiles deliberately cautioned. He bore his eyes into Jimmy until the smaller boy flinched.
“Come here, Jimmy.” Henrietta led Jimmy by the hand to the com station, breaking the invisible link between the two boys. She glanced at Peter as she passed by, mumbling, “Between the four of you, there’s enough testosterone on this ship to start a football match.”
“What?” Peter asked confused.
“Little Mister Innocent,” she added over her shoulder. “You’re just as bad, you know.”
Peter watched Henrietta continue to the com station. “What’d I do?” Peter shouted at her back. She ignored him, putting on a superior attitude.
“Okay, Jimmy,” Henrietta continued, “now, tell me about what you heard.” She reset the auto-log feature in communications to a few minutes ago and offered the screen to Jimmy.
Jimmy replayed the recording several times, speeding it up a couple times and slowing it down a few others.
“Did it really sound like a baby?” Henrietta asked.
“I guess.”
“We don’t have time to guess, Jimmy,” she said. “This is important.”
He listened to the recording two more times. He input data to his PAD, but was not satisfied with the results. “Yeah; like I said, there was no syntax to what I heard. Nothing was logical. It could have been like a baby babbling.”
“So?” Stiles asked. “We got two babies with us now?”
“Ship,” Henrietta called, “can you speak? And turn the volume down, by the way.”
“Mrrrrrrrrrr-rrr ….” the ship softly replied.
The kids were not sure if that was pure coincidence or not. As much as anything, it sounded like an engine running. For all they knew, it could have been an audio unit issuing feedback.
“Is that a ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”
“Mrrrrrrrrrr-rrr ….”
“This isn’t helping,” Henrietta concluded.
Jimmy turned off the logs he was playing with. He furiously began inputting data into his PAD. A broad smile broke out. “It kinda is helping,” he interjected.
“How so?” Peter asked.
“I don’t think that was random sounds,” Jimmy said. “Sounded like he said the same thing twice, whatever it was. He’s answering your questions, Henrietta.”
“Maybe I can help,” Ali suggested. He walked to the back of the bridge and eased down into a chair at the engineering station. The others followed and stood behind him. Ali initialized the instruments that monitored the ship’s central cortex. A virtual sphere, the size of a basketball, floated above the console. It was semi-transparent and was flooded with rapidly changing colors, as if a kaleidoscopic storm were brewing within. I hope this works, Ali thought. “This represents the ship’s cortex; his brain so to speak.”
“So all those colors in there show he’s there,” Henrietta guessed.
“Not necessarily. There’s activity, but is he conscious? See, our neurons fire all throughout K-T-space, but that doesn’t mean anyone could talk to us. What I want to try is a little experiment with the ship.”
Ali began fine-tuning the display until the colors became saturated. “Ship, we’re trying to find out if you can hear us. I want you to think of the most pleasant thing you can remember, like when you first left the construction yards and flew by yourself. Think only of that.”
The color of the cortex turned mostly green.
“Very good,” Ali replied. “Now, ship, I want you to remember being shot by the Wasatti. Think of that moment.”
The cortex changed into a deep purple-red.
“Hey, he’s responding,” Henrietta exclaimed.
“Yep. And now I think we can talk to him,” Ali replied. “Okay ship, now listen carefully. I’ll ask some questions. If you answer ‘yes’ think of flying. If you answer ‘no’ think of being shot. Okay?”
The image of the cortex switched several times between red and green. For the most part, though, it remained a greenish hue.
“Cool,” Jimmy cried.
“Ship,” Ali scolded, “your concentration could be a lot better. Think yes and no for a bit longer each time. Okay; I’m going to ask you something. Remember, think of flying for ‘yes’ and being shot for ‘no.’ Okay?”
The cortex turned green for a few seconds before reverting back to multi-hued.
“Are you trying to talk to us?”
Green ….
They just found their common yardstick. Peter walked behind Ali and placed his hand on his shoulder. Ali glanced up and smiled. Now that the ship could communicate, it was only a matter of time.
“Can you remember how to talk?” Ali continued.
Green ….
Ali was dejected. He hoped to get a “no” for that question so he was back to square-one, but before he could ask his next question the cortex turned red. Ali studied the cortex. “I take it that was a ‘no’ then?”
Green; and it remained green after a full minute of waiting.
Ali laughed. He was still on track. “Next time you can think of being shot a little faster for a no. Are you having trouble with your voice systems, or do you not remember the language?”
The cortex was flooded with varying colors. They waited a full minute with tension filling the bridge.
“You can’t ask it that way,” Jimmy suggested. “It’s gotta be either a yes or no.”
“Oops,” Ali stammered.
“Besides,” Henrietta continued, “it looks like he can understand us, so I don’t think it’s the language at this point, or else he wouldn’t know what we were asking.”
That was another good point Ali missed. He was making way too many mistakes lately and would need to think things through twice before trying anything else. One critical mistake out here could mean their death. He rubbed his face, trying to regain his composure. “So, ship, is the mapping between your mind and your voice disconnected?”
Green ….
Ali thought for a minute. The puzzle was coming together, but there were still too many pieces missing. He thought back to the times he worked with his father. His dad always cautioned him to look at the overall system before working on any one component. All the gears had to mesh or the system would fail. If something is too important to loose, be sure it is isolated. There were a million adages his father used, and keeping track of all of them would be a chore. “I should have realized that.”
“Realized what?” Henrietta asked.
“The environmental and supply systems have been working all along. Those are tied into a completely separate system because crew health depends on them. I could never figure out before why some systems worked and others didn’t. So the stuff necessary for ship consciousness was what was on the fritz.”
“So he is hurt?” Peter asked.
“Sorta,” Ali replied. “I think all his systems are functional; there’s just an interface problem between his main computing and his physical aspects.”
The cortex flashed green again.
That was the key piece to the puzzle. Ali now knew what was wrong with the ship. Like Peter suggested, he was there all along, but he was in two separate parts. Like the environmental systems, they were a closed loop, and on redundant power. One fusion plant was actually dedicated to internal environment only. His dad insisted that the life of the crew could not be left in the hands of the conscious ship. If it were working properly, the ship was allowed to handle the loads, but if any triggers went off, en
vironmental was set to initiate on its own to keep the crew alive.
So, for whatever reason, the ship was split into two halves since jump. One half was its “mind” and the other half was its “body” or their equivalents. Ali rationalized it must have been like a coma, being able to think, but not able to move a muscle.
“So why can’t you manually start his engines?” Stiles asked.
Another valid question I should have already thought out, Ali pondered. He wracked his brain until something came to mind, “He must have a default security override,” Ali guessed.
Green ….
Ali was relieved, and not just a little surprised he stumbled into the right answer. Don’t tell the others; let them keep thinking how smart you are.
“So turn it off!” Stiles persisted.
Ali did not think he could do that. He was not sure why, but was confident it would be harder than just asking. “You don’t know how to do that, do you?” Ali asked.
Red ….
“Peter,” Ali suggested, “try the yellow command key again.”
Peter looked toward Henrietta. “Can I have it back?”
“Of course.” Henrietta lifted the chain over her head and handed the key to Peter.
Ali left the engineering station and initialized the yellow nav panel. He reset it to input mode and stepped aside, allowing Peter access. Peter sat down and inserted the key, looking up at Ali as he turned it.
Ali looked back at the virtual cortex, “Ship, do you recognize him?”
Green ….
He recognized the DNA of his captain. He should be acting like a faithful dog by now, ready to obey commands from his master. “Are your systems coming back online?”
Red …. Deep red ….
The dog was not responding. “This is so frustrating,” Ali complained.
Green ….
Henrietta laughed out loud. The ship was agreeing with Ali.
“This isn’t funny, Henry,” Stiles shouted.
Henrietta gave Stiles a stern look. “I think the ship really is like a baby right now. He’s essentially helpless from the jump; maybe lost most of his education during the journey.”
Green flashed again.
So we have a blank slate? Ali wondered. Forty years of programming wiped away after only one jump. It did not make sense. “But why?” Ali asked. “He’s not programmed to act that way.”
No one was willing, or able, to offer any explanations. Ali was starting to wonder if his father had designed a flawed project. It was his life’s work! This just can’t be. There had to be something else going on, but Ali had no idea what it could be.
“Maybe the journey took longer than we planned,” Peter suggested.
“Not that again,” Stiles complained.
“You don’t know that,” Peter began.
“Hey! Testosterone ….” Henrietta reminded Peter.
“Yeah ….”
“However it happened, his programming failed,” Henrietta continued. “I think we need to re-teach the ship.”
“Re-teach?” Jimmy asked.
“Yeah,” Henrietta replied. “We’re his parents now.”
CHAPTER 9
Close Approach
The moaning grew worse, but not from the ship’s clumsy efforts at speech. These noises came from the hull, adjusting to the ever-shifting gravitational fields encountered just outside the star’s outer corona.
Ali knew the ship was being creative, finding unusual ways to counteract the unexpected forces, but he could also see that the ship was starting to lose ground, like he was running out of unique ideas to defeat a wily and ever-changing foe.
The sounds were similar to an echoed knocking, decreasing in pitch and frequency until they stopped. Then, another gravitational wave began the process again, causing the ship to cycle through its chilling scales from high notes to the subsonic. Henrietta said earlier that the hull noises reminded her of singing whales back on Earth. Now, they changed in tempo sounding more like a tribe of feral children running within the hidden crawl spaces of the ship; their tiny feet pattering against the ceilings and walls as they recklessly passed by.
The constant rumbling was not the only thing they had to worry about. Internal temperatures were rising. Normal ship temperatures were a balmy seventy–two throughout the ship. Now, however, there was a thermal gradient within the ship. The front of the bridge was the warmest onboard, at a toasty 108. The officer’s quarters, one deck below, were nearly as hot, at just under triple figures. It was so unbearable the children long since moved their sleeping quarters into the communal rad room, but now that the ship’s stores of water were heating, the rad room as well was warming from the radiated heat from the water tanks. The coolest part of the ship was along the overhead platform to the rear of the hangar, yet in there it was still a toasty eighty degrees and rising. The children wondered if soon they would be seeking refuge in the courier, and where next they could turn if that refuge became intolerable. It would not take long to run out of options.
Ali wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, sipping on a chilled water bulb from the galley. He was with Peter and Jimmy. The top of his CT-suit was sweat-stained and damp, with locks of hair pasted to his clammy forehead. He had long since lost his appetite, which for Ali was a big deal. He rubbed the cold water bulb against his neck, holding it along a warm, pulsing artery. The ghost children ran above them again.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Ali asked.
“I think so,” Peter confirmed. “How long can this keep up?”
“I wish I knew. We don’t have regular internal sensors. My dad relied on the ship reporting what he was feeling, kinda like a doctor monitoring his own health. I guess he never imagined the ship would go dumb on us.”
Peter laughed.
“What?” Ali asked, looking defensive.
This had been such a rollercoaster ride, going from one extreme to another; from solving one crisis to hours of pure boredom. “Well, just thinking …. We were flying blind when we entered the system. Now that we know what’s outside, we’re suddenly blind inside.”
“Yeah, funny.” Ali shoved his plateful of food aside and started to leave.
“Hey,” Peter called out, “I wasn’t blaming you. Just making an observation.”
Ali reluctantly sat down again. He started playing with the food on his plate, pushing it from one side to the other. “Yeah, but Peter, I really don’t know what to do next, and here everyone is depending on me.” He stared at his plate. “I really miss my mother’s cooking.”
Jimmy accidentally dropped his water bulb on the table. The nozzle landed top-side up and squirted him squarely in the eye. Everyone laughed, except Jimmy.
“Nice shot,” Ali observed. At least it lightened the mood.
Jimmy blushed at his clumsiness. “So, you can’t fix him any further?”
“I’m out of options,” Ali replied. “Every system should work by now, so anything else I do I’ve pretty much already tried. But it’s so frustrating. It’s like asking a first-grader to do a trig problem. I might as well be talking to a dog.”
The ship suddenly banged, like a huge cabinet fell on the deck above.
“What was that?” Jimmy asked.
“More squeezing,” Ali said. “Something giving way. Keep this up and we’ll be crushed like a walnut shell.”
“Ali ….” Peter warned.
Ali glanced up for a beat at Jimmy. “Well, we will ….”
The three boys sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the table. Peter gave up and set his chopsticks over his plate.
“You don’t have to protect me, you know,” Jimmy mumbled. “I’m not stupid.”
Peter glanced at the boy. “I know, Jimmy. It’s just ….”
Jimmy looked up at Peter, waiting for him to continue. Hope was radiating from his face, looking for any bright spot to pin his hopes on.
“Well,” Ali actually stood up this time and Peter did no
t try to stop him, “we’re not dead yet.”
“Yay,” Jimmy pathetically pumped his arm in the air. “Small victories.”
“We’ll get out of this, Jimmy,” Peter replied. “Just wait ’n’ see.”
The ship rumbled loudly. It sounded like laughter.
* * *
“Okay, that’s very good. That didn’t take half as long as I thought.” Henrietta was sitting alone on the sweltering bridge. She was at the com station in conversation with the ship. He’s a fast learner, she realized. At this rate, he might be close to our grade level by the end of the day.
The ship came a long way from his primitive grunts and moans of yesterday, yet his speech pattern was still painfully slow, like peanut butter was sticking to the roof of his mouth and he needed to sound out every word. It had a synthetic quality that was not there when they first heard him in the VCB hangar.
“Thank you, Henrietta,” he said stiffly.
But he does sound like a robot, she thought. “You’re welcome. Now that we’ve got you talking pretty good, let’s try something else.”
“Pretty well, is the correct grammar,” the ship replied.
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I was just testing you.”
“I trust I passed.”
Henrietta blushed at the fib. “Well, not really. Not ‘testing’ you, I mean. I was wrong before.”
The ship remained silent for a full minute. Henrietta considered explaining why she lied, but was not sure how to discuss human pride with an intelligent machine. Before she could begin, the ship replied, “So, why did you say you were just testing me?”
He’s calling me out. “I … I was embarrassed that I made a mistake.”
“Is that so? I thought I was the only one insecure.”
If only he knew. Humans probably spent most of their time in self-doubt. Well, maybe not Stiles, she thought. “Oh, no,” she laughed. “Everyone is unsure of themselves at one time or another. Makes us all human.”
“Am I human?” the ship asked woodenly.
“Human? I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t alive.”
“I do know I am not human, but I am rather remarkable, nonetheless.”
“You are. You’re one of a kind. Unique.”